


A Maelstrom of Idiocy

by deceptiqueer



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 11:58:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9724835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deceptiqueer/pseuds/deceptiqueer
Summary: Predaking was grateful that at least one of his kin had been lucky enough to survive the Autobot attack.The key word here being "was". Past tense.Primus grant him a dearth of patience. He will need it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> repost on a nonshared account! i wrote this probably a year ago, it's just a cute dorky interaction between a miraculously-not-dead predacon oc and predaking. no shipping, just cute.

Sent on patrol with the fledgling again.

Wonderful.

Predaking felt that it was far beneath him. Both of them, really. His lord had more than enough vehicons and eradicons for this kind of task, surely. And he wasn't yet decided on if he ought to be suspicious of the motives behind these prolonged and seemingly pointless scouting missions or not.

He was, however, quite sure that it would be more bearable without the stockier predacon tailing behind him, poking around at every tree and bush and peering under rocks and logs as if he expected to find something beyond crawling, slithering, and oozing organic lifeforms. It seemed unbecoming of a race as noble as theirs- but every time he had attempted to make that point to the insolent young mech he was met with optic rolling and occasionally blatant disrespect. It was as if Maelstrom didn't realize or didn't care that Predaking was his superior, and could destroy him without much effort.

It left him a bit dismayed.

He tried to focus on the task at hand, rather than on the aggravating mech tagging along with him. It worked passably, he only rarely had to snap at Maelstrom to get him to keep up. (He knew, of course, that he was considerably shorter than Predaking, rendering the task of ‘keeping up’ a bit of a struggle. It would have been easier without that insatiable curiosity.) They'd nearly completed a circuit of their range today when he heard a startled, pleased chirp behind him, coupled with a telltale small thump and the shifting of plating that indicated Maelstrom had hopped in excitement at- _something_. He turned slightly, with the intent to issue some sort of reprimand, regardless of knowing that it would do no more good this time than any other- and he managed to turn just in time to see Maelstrom stick something into his mouth.

Something green and flat and decidedly organic.

A _leaf?_

He was speechless, stopped in his tracks, staring at the mech he had to call a wingmate. He hadn't really just seen that, surely. Had he?

He must have, though, because Maelstrom’s optics were wide and his shoulders were pulled up high. His field flickered with surprise/awkwardness/embarrassment, and that coupled with his body language gave him away even as he shook his head vehemently. Predaking hadn’t even asked him a question yet.

"Why did- Why are you... attempting to consume the Earth foliage..?" Typically far more eloquent than this; it was a testament to Predaking's confusion that he only managed a halting inquiry of this.... behavior.

Maelstrom's vents whirred loudly, his plating ruffling in embarrassment. The stocky predacon slowly, cautiously lifted a servo to remove the offending leaf from his mouth, and then attempted- unconvincingly- to seem surprised about it.

"I- I don't know what you're talking about. I don't eat- _leafs_. It. Uh. It must have fell, into my mouth."

Predaking blinked slowly, spiralling (internally) into further bewilderment and despair at the future of his kind. "I see. It fell into your mouth." He turned around and started walking again, pressing one claw between his optics and exhaling a long, exasperated ventilation. "Am I to assume that all the very small pebbles you return to the Nemesis with find their way into your subspace and mouth in the same way? They _just fall in?_ " At that, he can feel the flustered disruption in Maelstrom's EM field even several paces ahead of the mech. Were he of a more petty disposition, he might take pleasure out of causing such a reaction. As it is, he just kneads between his optics a little harder. His sole surviving subject is- bizarre, and incomprehensible, and frustrating, to say the least.

Maelstrom is trotting along behind him again, field still radiating a combination of embarrassment/indignance and a shadow of smugness. Because, of course, Maelstrom _would_ be the one of a more petty disposition. Nothing like Starscream, certainly. But neither could he quite reign in the need to be, as a human (or Maelstrom himself) might say, 'a little shit'.

"You're not, uh, gonna tell anybody about that, though... right?" It seemed to have just now occurred to him that perhaps he should be concerned about his reputation, even despite the smugness. Predaking exvents again. 

"I highly doubt that our lord would care very much about your... proclivities... regarding the _detritus_ you find on this planet. The rest of the crew is not going to find out." If only because he didn't want any misconceptions of his _own_ habits. Maelstrom scoffs, apparently offended, and bounces up to walk alongside the much taller (and broader) mech.

"It's not detritus, detritus is garbage! Leafs and flowers and rocks are _not_ garbage."

"They are also not any kind of sustenance for our species."

"Says you."

"Says the entirety of our species, says our medic, says your own fuel tank."

"Don't even give me that, that's- that's-"

"Don't." 

Maelstrom squints. "It’s bullshit." Predaking sighs and resists the urge to roll his optics. He is above such displays of exasperation. He tells himself this. He almost believes it. Almost. Maelstrom is beginning to rub off on him. He is not certain he likes it.

"No, it's fact. You are not meant to ingest... leaves. I was under the impression that only the 'herbivores' eat leaves, and we do not in any sense resemble those earthen creatures."

"I don't eat them, I just. I don't eat them. They just taste good and feel nice in my mouth." Predaking looks down, brow ridges raised skeptically.

"Really."

Maelstrom's plating ruffles again and he has the nerve to whap Predaking in the arm. Gently. He's getting too comfortable with his king, probably. "Yes, really! You just don't understand because you've never tried it."

Oh no. No no. Predaking could see where this would be going if he did not put a halt to it immediately. He just wanted to finish this scouting mission- and a fine job he was doing, Megatron would be so pleased, if he knew that his scouts today were spending more time discussing the ingestion of earth organic matter than they were searching for signs of energon or Autobots- and return to the Nemesis, and attempt to guide his very small fledgling predacon into being a creature worth bearing the name.

Instead of letting the little bot corrupt Predaking's own disposition, and convincing him to put a leaf in his mouth. He quickens his pace, forcing Maelstrom to dash alongside him to have any hope of keeping up.

"Hey, what's the big idea, PK? It's not like you gotta get all grouchy 'cause you've never tried it, jeez- could you just slow down?" 

"No. And get your leaf out of my face." Maelstrom had indeed been waving a leaf in Predaking's face. Instead of respectfully withdrawing the offending foliage, he waves it a little closer, before impaling it on a spine on Predaking's helm and leaving it there.

He sighs, deeply, and does not acknowledge Maelstrom for the remainder of the patrol. He, as ever, is quickly distracted by their surroundings again.

The leaf stays on Predaking's helm all the way back to the Nemesis, and does not have the decency to remove itself until he plucks it off in the washracks later.

He would not admit it to anybody, but he held it for a moment, contemplating. And then promptly scoffed and tossed it away. He would not be dragged into the peculiar habits of his wingmate.

Not yet, anyway.


End file.
